


Regret

by babybrotherdean



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Episode: s12e17 The British Invasion, F/M, Implied/Referenced Sex, Regret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-10-16 03:32:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10562826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babybrotherdean/pseuds/babybrotherdean
Summary: He almost looks a little bit like John.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this after seeing the 12.17 promo while I was overwhelmed with John/Mary feelings and upset about the implications of her sleeping with Ketch. After seeing the actual scene and everything, I'm significantly less hurt, but... hey, figured I'd upload this anyways? 
> 
> (I also realize it reads a little like dubcon, but that wasn't my intention- more just some really intense regret on Mary's part.)

He almost looks a little bit like John.

That’s where the similarities end, though, because Mary’s John was never a hunter. A soldier, of course, but still innocent in a way that Ketch _(Arthur, call me Arthur)_ has never been. Not the way that she knows him.

He holds her differently, and he isn’t as gentle _(don’t wanna hurt the baby, sweetheart)_ , and he doesn’t treat her like a porcelain doll the way John did after her parents died. He doesn’t touch he like John did, and he doesn’t look at her like John did, and doesn’t whisper to her afterwards and tell her about the lives they’re going to live once they get away, once they make something for themselves.

He isn’t John.

Mary’s shaken after it’s over because it feels wrong; it feels like every kind of betrayal she promised herself she never commit, and the taste is bitter on the back of her tongue with the faintest hint of bloody copper _(he doesn’t kiss like John, either)_. It’s wrong and it hurts and she feels like she’s going to cry when she picks her ring up off the bedside table, the chain slipping between her fingers like it’s as ashamed as she is.

She can’t bring herself to put it back on, and slips it into her pocket, instead.

“You’re not going to stay a little longer?” And damn, she’d almost managed to forget that he’s still here. Mary doesn’t look his way because she can still feel the marks he’s left on her _(still feel where his fingers pressed into her skin and bruised, all the places he found with his lips, fuck)_ and she’s already burning with shame.

God, what are the boys going to think?

“I have to go,” she says curtly, then bites down hard on her lip to keep the rest of it in (why? What do you want from me? How did we end up here?) and pulls on her jacket and heads for the door.

She’s halfway out when he speaks again, sounding a little detached and a little pleased with himself and it makes her skin crawl. “I’ll see you at the meeting tomorrow, yes? We’re both expected to report in.”

Mary doesn’t answer, but even the closed door as she leaves it behind her doesn’t scrub this from her mind.

_(I will always love you for exactly who you are.)_

The whispers that sound like John are accusations, and she breaks when she gets back to the car. The empty space in her heart where her soulmate is supposed to live feels raw and torn after trying to make somebody else fit, and she- she just-

She needs to call Sam and Dean, and check in like she’s promised to do, but she barely works up the energy to start the car, desperate to just put some distance between herself and Arthur Ketch.

She never should’ve let him into the damn room.

**Author's Note:**

> :*


End file.
